


Stargazing

by elliex



Series: Sanctuary Sequence [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (and jealous dean too), Human Castiel, Mushiness, Protective Dean, Stargazing, Zeke still won't let Cas come home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:54:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliex/pseuds/elliex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas, on his own in Topeka, discovers a new hobby; Dean, concerned, decides to find out what's going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stargazing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SPN Prompt "Fire"
> 
> Plays loosely off of Season 9, post episode 3. Connects loosely to the other shorts in "Sanctuary Series" (though they're not required reading).
> 
> “From Here to the Moon and Back” – Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson

\+ + + +

Cas was sitting in the middle of an empty field, the neglected acreage of a local farmer. It was his favorite place in Topeka.

He liked to come here in the evenings, after dusk’s mantle had fallen. He would carefully spread out his plaid, thrift store blanket, lie back with his fingers laced behind his head, and watch the sky go through its nightly ritual.

He would watch as the moon rose and the stars revealed themselves; he would trace out the constellations, their patterns as familiar to him as the freckles on Dean Winchester’s nose. 

He would watch the clouds move across the sky, obscuring his glimpse of those far-away celestial objects. Then, he would close his eyes and remember.

+

Dean checked his phone, taking note of Cas’s location. His brow furrowed – he’d tracked Cas to that spot, what, six times over the past two weeks? And every time that little red dot would remain right there, unmoving, for _hours._

Dean wondered just where Cas was at – the redhead’s house? His stomach twisted painfully. Hastily closing the app, Dean jammed the phone deep in his pocket. 

By daybreak, the red dot still hadn’t moved. Dean pushed down his panic and opened his laptop. 

Within minutes, he’d hacked into a satellite feed to find out just what was so damn interesting about that place. Trust Cas to be hanging out somewhere that satellites hadn’t bothered to map, though.

He felt a twinge at being stalky – _no, not stalky… concerned._ He threw the twinge in the lead box where he kept his other secrets and carried on.

Dean had an address, so he tackled census and property records next, taking a deep breath before he clicked “Get Results.”

All he found was a record that indicated the land belonged to the Weehunt Family Trust, and apparently, some of the land was used for farming. 

_What the hell is Cas doing?_

Grabbing his backpack, Dean packed quickly and lightly. Dean taped a note for his still-sleeping brother (and Zeke) to the refrigerator, saying that Mackey needed a hand with a salt & burn but Dean wouldn’t be gone long. 

Dean was on the road by 7 a.m., but his uncertainty increased with his mileage. Other than the occasional curt text, he and Cas hadn’t been in touch since that night by the car. 

_But...dammit. Something could be wrong._

Dean thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel and chewed at his bottom lip. 

_Screw Cas if he doesn’t like it,_ Dean finally decided. _I’m doing this_ for him _because Cas has to be… He has to be_ okay.

Dean resolutely popped in a Zeppelin tape and cranked the volume. He sang loudly and off-key until he reached Topeka. 

+

On his way into town, Dean had driven past the store where Cas worked and glimpsed him through the windows. Relieved on that score, Dean had headed for the field, but he’d seen nothing remarkable about it. 

Then he’d trekked through the overgrowth and found a worn place in the center, the grass trampled with regular use. 

_What the hell?_

Without any other clues, Dean headed back to the motel to sleep; he felt a stake-out coming on.

+

Cas spread his blanket out and arranged himself comfortably. It was a clear, if chilly, evening, and he thought he might even be able to glimpse some planets tonight. A hopeful smile lit up his features.

+

Dean watched in disbelief as Cas biked up the long dirt road that cut through the field. _Of course he’s biking,_ chided the voice in his head. _It’s not like he can afford a car with that craptastic job of his._

Dean wondered how long it took Cas to travel back and forth from here, what was so important about coming that he did so often. 

He watched as Cas came to a stop and walked his bike into the field, hiding it in an especially tall patch of overgrowth.

Once Cas was out of sight, Dean left the blind he’d made in the tall grasses across the road and, using every trick that Bobby’d ever taught him, silently and slowly followed his friend.

When Dean reached him, Cas was already laying on the blanket, watching the sky as the evening turned to dusk. 

This wasn’t what Dean had expected – _at all_ – and he was so startled by the innocence and intimacy of the scene that he reflexively stepped backwards, crunching a small stick beneath his shoe. Dean held a momentary hope that the bugs and birds holding their nightly concert would drown out he sound, but no such luck.

The small sound had Cas on his feet and assuming a defensive position before Dean could blink. 

Cas stared right at the spot where Dean was hiding, peering through the grayish light. 

Dean contemplated running, just turning around and hauling ass to where he’d hidden the Impala a little further up the road and never telling Cas he’d ever even been here. But then he heard Cas’s voice.

“Who’s there?”

And Dean knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the brush and stepped into Cas’s place. 

“Hey, Cas,” he said quietly. 

Cas looked utterly gobsmacked. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing up every-which-way. Dean’s heart constricted at the sight. But when Cas shook his head and muttered something about dreams and visions, Dean realized that Cas wasn’t sure he was real.

Without hesitation, Dean closed the distance between them and pulled Cas to his chest, wrapping his arms tight around those toned shoulders and pressing his face into those wind-tossed dark brown curls. 

A few seconds later, Cas’s arms clamped around Dean’s waist, and he buried his face in the crook of the hunter’s neck. 

Their thudding hearts drowned out the evening’s cacophony. 

+

A light, cool wind picked up around midnight and rustled through the grass, making it bend and sway in rhythm. 

Cas shivered against Dean’s chest. Though they were already wrapped up in the plaid blanket, Dean reached an arm out, snagging his cast-off jacket to add another layer. 

Then he pointed to a star along the handle of the Big Dipper. “That one,” he said. 

“It’s part of what human scientists call the Ursa Major Moving Cluster,” Cas said. 

“Were you there when it was born?,” Dean asked. 

“Yes,” Cas said. 

“Tell me,” Dean said. He listened to Cas’s story, hearing names that were part of his own history now: Michael, Lucifer, Balthazar… 

At some point, though, the timbre of the voice speaking distracted Dean from the story, and he realized that his hand had moved – of its own accord – from Cas’s arm to his hipbone. 

Judging by the catch in Cas’s voice, he’d realized it too. 

“So this is what you do out here?,” Dean asked gruffly, moving his hand to Cas’s ribs and ignoring the still-simmering heat between them.

“Uh – yes,” Cas answered. “I come out here and watch, and I remember.” 

“Being an angel?”

“Yes.”

“And other things,” Cas said softly.

“Like?” Dean prompted, his eyes on the stars. 

Cas raised his head from Dean’s chest, and Dean shifted his gaze, their eyes locking. Though the moonlight washed out blue and green hues so vivid in sunlight, it couldn’t wash out the intensity. 

With his hand splayed across Dean’s heart, scorching the skin, Cas simply looked at him. Dean felt his throat hitch, and he cupped Cas’s face, tangling his fingers in curls and brushing his thumbs across cheekbones before. 

Neither spoke; they didn’t need to. Dean pressed up as Cas leaned down, and their kiss reignited whatever _this_ was. 

+

Entangled, they watched the dawn burn away the moonlight. 

\+ 

The trip back to Lebanon was long and lonely. Dean wasn’t in the mood for any of his tapes, and he skipped around radio stations, trying to find something worth listening to – anything to get his mind off the fact that he’d just left Cas again.

He recognized Willie Nelson and Dolly Parton’s voices and paused his channel-surfing:

_From here to the moon and back_  
Who else in this world will love you like that?  
Love everlasting, I promise you that  
From here to the moon and back  
From here to the moon and back

If Dean let the song play out, if he joined in on the chorus, if he wiped a tear from his eye…who was to know?

+

If Cas went to their field again that night, to watch the stars and remember…only Dean knew. 

+

And if Dean watched the red dot hover on the screen, if he closed his eyes, remembered, and wished he were there?

He wasn’t the only one.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever start writing with an idea that quickly becomes something entirely different? That happened here... So I sincerely hope this short works.
> 
> If you made it this far, thanks for reading! :)


End file.
